Ah, so now we're leaving Solstheim, are we? I imagine it would be very, very difficult for Athlain to leave Thyna behind, especially in her condition.

The progression from the conclusion of the Beowulf saga to this point has been one of darkening storm clouds. It is frightening to think that Athlain would lose Thyna to something so dreadful - she would survive, but not as the delightfully frustrating young woman he knows and loves.

It was good to see the arguing between the two of them - it means she hasn't changed - yet.

Looking forward with great trepidation to more.

Wow... ...

Goosebumps...

Much impressed...

Really does have an epic feel already...And I will admit, I've only caught this last bit so far... ...

Nice one... ...

Athlain’s inner struggle seems to be coming to a breaking point. I can’t help but see similarities in the way he pulls away from Trey and Serene and the way he wants to deny the influence of immortals. It might come as a shock to him if the world doesn’t end when he changes his mind. I remember my own surprise at his age when it didn’t.

“Worse yet, it is clear that the eye of the Hunter is upon you- and upon Athynae. He will not be easily diverted, now that he has chosen his prey- and his newest Hound.”

The shadowy atmosphere inside Korst’s house led beautifully to this moment. Just wonderful!! And terrifying. Yikes.

You are at your absolute best when writing Korst and the Skaal traditions and laws !!! ... .... ..... GAAAAAH !!! Athynae is ... the hound ... and Athlain ... the prey ?????? URK !!! ARGH !!!!! Awesome Write !!

*Looks from Trey to Sethyas*

"Yes it hurt me letting her go, but I had to, partly for reasons that were revealed to me not so long ago"

I am worried about those two! The Lycanthropy thingy scares the h*** out of me! treydoggie and Athynae...looking forward to see where this all leads to.


S.G.M This is VERY S.G.M-ish indeed it is!

Wow. So rather powerful forces are moving to set them against one another. The plot thickens (again) with that becoming totally clear. I suspect Athlain will be ignoring all Korst's warnings about the price being more than he is willing to pay (who wouldn't). This may come back to haunt him.

His lack of interest/ time for the gods coming against him dreaming of one and being surrounded by them is another slightly contrary aspect of his personailty which is going to come to a head. Whether he deems them to be worth the bother afterwards is another matter - Athynae isn't the only stubborn one.

I like the sections with Korst, the descriptions are so rich. There's something a little dark and just slightly sinister about him which blends so well with his omens and ancient tomes and shadowy house. This line:

Was particularly evocative.

Black Hand- You hit upon Serene’s- and Trey’s- dilemma precisely. They have gone to great lengths to ensure that their children are safe and- yes- sheltered. But Vvardenfell is still not a safe place, and Athynae and Athlain are products of a warrior House. And- no there is more to Korst than is first visible.

Haute- Fortunately, Athlain has no need to go to the mainland- at least not yet. However, your question allowed me to add a bit of flavor to the story, as he is not sure what happens next. And I am very pleased that the atmosphere I am trying to invoke comes across. Athlain’s fear is certainly palpable to me- for he KNOWS what will happen to Athynae if she cannot be cured. And their arguing is their “Aspect;” as is their affection.

McBadgere- So thrilled to have you reading- and enjoying this story.

Grits- Yes, one thing Athlain inherited in full measure from Trey is a questioning of all “higher powers,” whether parental or divine. And yet, he joined the Legion, an organization that runs on hierarchy and obedience to authority. Korst recognizes the fundamental conflict in Athlain’s personality- he simply did not have time to be gentle about it. And again, I am so pleased that the story has the “feel” I strive for.

mALX- Thank you, thank you. And yes- you are exactly right as to Korst’s metaphor regarding the hunter and the prey. And THAT is perhaps ‘Thyna’s greatest fear.

Minque- Serene has many reasons to have held her daughter close- and deserves as much credit for allowing her to go. And, since lycanthropy is central to Bloodmoon, I wanted to give as much “weight” to it as I possibly could. It is also new ground for me, as I never previously played out the “werewolf quests.”

Olen- I continue to depend upon your reading to tell me if I am “getting it right” or not. Athlain- stubborn? That is actually reflective of a line for near the end of the story- that scene I have had written since the beginning. And I want Korst to come across as a true shaman of a hunting society should- he stands between light and dark, life and death. One side of his face is limned by the fire and the other is in shadow.


Where we are- Athynae has been infected with lycanthropy and the "3 days grace" where cure disease magic might work has passed. She has barricaded herself in a cave and sent out a mental call for help to Athlain. With the assistance of the Skaal shaman, Korst Windeye, Athlain found her and vowed to find a cure. Upon Athlain's return, Korst has informed him that there is a possibility of a cure, but it involves dealing with the Glenmoril Wyrd.

------------------------------------------------

The room was silent after Korst’s warning, save for the crackling of the fire. At last I tore my gaze from the flames and asked:

“Glenmoril? And what does the raven at the Altar of Thrond have to do with a group of Daedra worshippers in High Rock? Will it take me to them- or carry a message? Or…?”

The shaman was normally somewhat amused by my confusion, but he did not smile this time. Instead he put aside the book as if it were tainted and explained:

“Forgive me for being unclear, Athlain. I… do not LIKE to talk about these things and so said as little as possible. You will have no need to go to High Rock- the raven is a sign that the Glenmoril Wyrd have come to Solstheim. They are able to predict or sense the coming of the Blood Moon and the calling of the Wild Hunt. They are drawn to those events as moths to a candle. Or better to say, ‘as slaughterfish to blood,’ for they use the terror and strife to power their magic. Some Daedra delight in despair and conflict- the Glenmoril Sisters will use this time to feed their dark rituals.”

He fixed me with a piercing gaze and folded his hands before him.

“Because it is the only chance I know to save Athynae, I tell you this. Go to the Altar of Thrond and seek the raven. Beyond that, I cannot say. Only this- ‘ware treachery and dissembling words. The Sisters will appear to offer that which you seek, but take care that it is not a trap baited with your own desire.”

With that, he fell into a brooding silence.

The rising sun found me passing close to Graring’s house, working my way west and south. I could not help but think of the outcast Skaal and their decision to work with stahlrim. And then I thought of the woman who had come to kill them and found instead her own death- at my hands. Those melancholy memories made me wonder about my own choices. Which of my actions had caused this fate to befall Athynae? Would we have been happy if I had simply stayed home and not heeded the voice of the wind, the voice that urged me to wander? With an effort, I shook off those thoughts, even as I wiped the frozen tears from my face. The past was done; I could examine and agonize over every step, every choice that had brought me here, but it would profit me nothing. There was only one way to go- forward.

The Altar of Thrond was at the center of Sostheim, and I had seen it from a distance when I persuaded Sigvatr to pay weregild to Kolfinna. The memory caused a moment of grim humor- that mission had been simple compared to this. All I had to fear then was that Sigvatr might kill me and that a woman who did not even know my true name would not receive the payment she was owed for her husband’s death. Carbo had been fond of saying:

No one ever promised you things would get easier, recruit. And if they did- they lied.

Now I understood. With those gloomy thoughts, I climbed the rise that was topped by a circle of standing stones surrounding the Altar itself. Movement put me on my guard and I raised Athynae’s Gift partway, then stopped.

Perched upon the stone altar was a huge black bird, with a large beak and preternaturally intelligent eyes. Although we had no birds on Vvardenfell, I had seen ravens depicted in books from Father’s collection. And they were also represented in Nord artwork, especially on barrows and on backrests of Skoldr and Tharsten’s thrones. I could only hope that this bird appeared in its role as bringer of wisdom rather than that of guide for the dead. And still more, I hoped that the knowledge she brought would be happiness and not sorrow. Hope can be at once wonderful- and terrible. I felt the keen bite of that two-edged sword as I stared at the raven, waiting for a sign.

The wait was not long; she cocked her head to one side and then the other, surveying me with each shiny black eye in turn. She then shook her feathers and opened her beak- and spoke. Perhaps if I had not seen so much in the past months, a talking bird would have surprised me more. Or perhaps, since I had no firsthand knowledge of birds, I expected that they all talked. Why not? Was that any more fantastic than the fact that I could still hear the murmur of Athynae’s troubled thoughts in the back of my own mind?

Even so, this raven seemed to be a particularly chatty representative of the tribe, talking for several minutes without pausing or waiting for me to respond. She began thus, in a voice that was quite human in timbre:

Greetings, child of Cyrodiil, High Rock, and Skyrim. I am Etienne. Does my form surprise you? As a Sister of the Glenmoril Wyrd, I have the ability to change my shape as suits my needs. But then, shapechanging is already on your mind, is it not? That is why my Sisters and have come to Solstheim. We have been watching events unfold, and are well aware that lycanthropy is spreading. For some, the blood-gift is a blessing. For others, it is a curse. For those who desire it, we offer a cure, one that purifies the blood, that will forever stop the Change to wolf form. And might such a cure be of interest to you?

As she spoke, the bird moved her head rhythmically, also shifting slowly from one foot to the other. The motion was timed with her words- and seemed almost mesmerizing. In fact, I became so caught up in her actions it was almost difficult to hear what she was saying. Despite the movement she kept one black eye fixed upon me at all times- a dark pool into which I felt myself falling. But even so, the sense of her question became clear to me. I did not know whether I could trust her words, but I also knew that I had no choice.

“Yes, I seek a cure for lycanthropy.”

Very well. If you- or someone your care for- wants a cure, to forever end the call of the wolf within, we will aid you.

She fixed me with a stare and ceased her movements as she paused in her speech.

However, the road is a difficult one, for being rid of the blood curse is not so simple as sipping a potion. First, you must meet my Sisters, and together we shall tell you of the Rite of the Wolf Giver. Come with me, young soldier.

With that the raven hopped down from the altar and opened her wings wide, as if to embrace me. She then folded them once more, and I experienced the rush of air and the wrenching tumble through the Void that always accompanied teleportation magic.

The fog of the relocation spell cleared, but a different sort of confusion replaced it as I watched the raven’s transformation into a tall Imperial woman. Her age was hard to read from her features, which were ageless rather than youthful or elderly. Nor could I discern anything of her figure, which was concealed in dark robes that she settled about herself while pinning me with a dark-eyed gaze. Discomfited, I looked away and I saw that I was inside an ice cave, sparsely lit with scattered torches. A pair of the leaping shadows resolved themselves into two more Imperial women, with robes and faces similar to Etienne’s. Their piercing stares were also similar, sharing a look that seemed somehow… hungry. Just as that thought occurred to me I noticed a huge black cauldron and shuddered. I could have used the vessel for a bath easily enough- although climbing back out might prove difficult.

The two new Sisters were introduced as Isobel and Fallaise, although I could not be sure which was which. The constant movement of all three, who waved their hands, billowed their robes, and circled so that one or another was always where I could not see her- did nothing to improve my mood. I wanted to put my back against the icy wall or leave that place altogether- but I could not. So I gritted my teeth hard enough to hear my jaw creak and listened to their arcane chorus. Adding to the confusion was the way they passed their words from one to another with no discernable pattern- almost as if three mouths spoke with one voice, expressing the ideas of one consciousness.

The path to the cure begins here. The Rite is a complex piece of dark magicka, involving the sacrifice of both flesh and innocence. We will begin the preparations, but there are certain items that must be gathered. We will tell you what we need. When you have completed our errands, return to the Altar of Thrond.

One of the Sisters- perhaps Fallaise, certainly not Etienne- continued:

In order for the Rite of the Wolf Giver to proceed, my Sisters and I require the petals of a wolfsbane flower. Due to Hircine’s influence, the plant is rare, even on the mainland. But here on Solstheim, it only grows in one place. Go now to the southern end of the Moesring Mountains, to the top of Hvitkald Peak. There you will find a single wolfsbane flower in bloom. Retrieve the petals of this flower and return to the Altar, where you will be met.

The three women then fell silent, bowing their heads and folding their arms. Wrapping my own silence around me like a cloak, I left the cave.

Once again I am transported to the memories of old Celtic myths. That huge bubbling cauldron only reinforces the Celtic feel.

Transportation, eh? And the Sisters are now in Solstheim? I am waiting to see what the catch is - they always want a price for what they 'give'.

Now that really brought the Glenmoril Wyrd to life. Your description of their movements worked well to show their otherworldliness, they came across as almost birdlike at times and then their swirling together while taking up the lines from one another worked very well to show them as strange and a force not so easily understood. It somewhat put me in mind of the opening of MacBeth, though more morally ambiguous, Korst may not like them but they do offer a cure, and though they describe it as dark magic Athlain seems willing. Definitely morally grey, I look forward to this quest, it's already vastly enriched compared to the in game one.

I sense more changes in Athlain too, very subtly done but the line:

and the way he moved on suggests that he accepts that he had to leave and whatever mistakes he may have made that much was necessary. As well as maturing he seems to be becoming more settled in himself and free of his father's shadow. I think this quest with it's 'sacrifice of both flesh and innocence' may temper him and finalise the change. I wonder how much Athynae will find him changed when they eventually get back together, let alone those back on the mainland.

Finally:

This line was brilliant, evocative and really caught how I'd imagine him leaving. It sort of links to the above with the vague distaste verging on disgust with the Glenmoril Wyrd but also himself for dealing with them, while accepting he has no choice.

Excellent.. More... Please? *Puppy dog eyes*

Wow... ...

Again... ...

My grasp of superlatives knows no beginnings...

How is it that I can know the word superlative and yet have none?... ...

Aaamywho...Nice one!!... ...

Oooh, great descriptions brought this scene to life! I have not looked up this quest (or played Morrowind), so everything is a total surprise to me on this - WHEW !! Great Write !!

Darkness overpowering.

Oh my.....As Hautie said...celtic myths and dark powers. This will be something very special....can't wait for the next update...Or well...of course I can...But still it drives shivers down my spine..Oh i so hope he will get the cure!

The Rite is a complex piece of dark magicka, involving the sacrifice of both flesh and innocence.

I don’t know the game story, but that sounds very grim. It makes me worry about what Athlain will be required to do, and how it will change him. It might be that a person who is capable of saving Athynae is not someone she can be with. That’s some pretty dark stuff.



I love it.

@haute- The atmosphere was important in this one- and will continue to be so. And I certainly drew on every creepy play and movie and night around a campfire I could think of…. The price will be seen- but not yet. I do hope Athlain brought along a Potion of Reading the Fine Print.

@Olen- My thanks again for your encouragement. Getting the Sisters “right” seemed essential to getting the correct feel for this quest. That is particularly true since I have not done it before this. And Athlain’s moral compass- if not his soul- will definitely be tested here. And- as you do so frequently, you note the significant moment- Athlain’s moment of more than just acceptance of what has gone before. My powers of foretelling hint that Athynae may have a bit more trouble recognizing a newer, more confident Athlain. Just a feeling.

@McBadgere- Just returning the favor- as I am often stuck for a way to express how wonderful I find your story. My thanks to you.

@mALX- I have a feeling that reading some of the “ceremonial” scenes written about a certain albino Khajiit has influenced my desire to make my own more vivid and interesting. Although I know the basics of the quest- this is the first time I have actually had a character play through it… so there are new moments for me to discover, as well.

@Black Hand- And I fear the darkness may get a bit more so before there is a chance for light to break through. And whether that light is the moons reflected in the eyes of a new werewolf… that remains to be seen.

@minque- Thank you so much- for everything you have done to help this story come to life- going all the way back to the beginning when young Trey stumbled off that ship in Seyda Neen.

@Grits- Interestingly enough, that quote is directly from in the game. More significant is the choice that will eventually be given to Athlain and how he responds. You also correctly note the question of how much can he change- and still be the person Athynae loves?

Where we are- Athlain has met with the Glenmoril Wyrd, a group of Daedra-worshipping Imperial women who are normally found in High Rock. Apparently, they have returned to Solstheim in connection with the Blood Moon Prophecy. They have offered a cure for lycanthropy- but their reasons and their price are not stated. Athlain has discovered that the antlered figure from his dreams is Hircine, the Daedric prince of the hunt. More ominously, Hircine is also the creator of lycanthropes and is attempting to convince Athynae to give in to the infection and become his newest Hound. And now we will leave Athlain for a moment, and discover that Athynae has not been idle in her cave.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am not a patient being. Sitting, waiting, wondering if Athlain was going to return before it was too late was as much a part of the mental battle as the daedric prince’s whispering, trying to coerce me. I tried to sleep and when I was awake I tried to be still to keep my heart from beating faster than necessary. I was beginning to feel as if I was just doing this because it was all I could do and not because it would matter in the long run. Long run, I wished I could go for a long run.

“You can. Just open the door. I am waiting for you Athynae. Three days have passed. It is too late for a
cure. Why do you insist on fighting the inevitable?”

I tried to block the daedric voice; I did not want to hear what he had to say. If there was no cure then Athlain would return and tell me so and then I would do what I had to. Until then I would continue to fight, but it was becoming more and more difficult by the breath.

I sat by the fire preparing some of the food that Athlain had left for me. I focused my mind as exclusively as I could manage on the process of seasoning my meal. I placed a piece of the meat on a stick and situated it over the flame. I removed one of the tubers from the sack and laid it on the glowing embers just inside the ring and then placed the sacks neatly to the side of the fire pit.

I focused my mind on other things- the flowers in Mother’s garden. My favorite, the wisteria with their large purple bunches, would be blooming soon. Mai and Cai and their endless antics were always worth at the very least a smile. Where I was impulsive and determined they were conniving and manipulative- and I supposed that was good. I shook my head with the thought, how to describe those two? I loved them like sisters, and there had been times when I could have wrung their lovely, ladylike necks.

I turned the skewer holding the piece of meat and for a few moments was lost in the dancing tendrils as they reached and withdrew, each touch leaving a mark as the moiety sizzled its protest at the molestation. I merged from this meditation to thoughts about my future, a subject that I had never spent an inordinate amount of time considering. My life thus far had been….what? What had it been really other than just one day that rolled into another? It was a given that I would be a healer, Mother had not forced it really, she had simply introduced me to that which was intrinsically a part of me. As she worked on her medicines, spells and potions she had taken time to tutor me along the way.

Another given was my aptitude with weapons. My very earliest memories included a weapon in my hand, a wooden dagger, a gift from Uncle Seth, with delicate, interwoven vines around the base of the hilt and edging the spine of the blade. There was also the bow and arrows from the Ahemussa, a gift I received even before I could walk.

A distant sound, a sort of shuffling, pulled me from my musings. A momentary thrill that it might be Athlain passed as less familiar noises floated from the depths of the cave. A sound like the slow dragging of feet was followed by what reminded me of sniffing, growing louder, closer, even as I listened. I eased over to the pallet and wrapped my fingers around the katana and turned with my back against the wall away from the opening to the depth of the cave.

The sound, the air, the feel of the blood rushing through me, I can’t explain exactly how I knew but I knew, without a doubt, it wasn’t a little rat that moved in the darkness. And then I saw the reflection of the fire in eyes that were level with mine.

“I could just close my eyes and stand here, let whatever is about to step into the light ….” I couldn’t even allow my brain to finish the thought; there was no way I was going to quit without a fight, and that meant I would face yet another unknown and if I was destined to die so be it. I would not go easily like some coward; I would not give up. And running was not an option; no matter what happened, I could not leave the cave.

The bear ambled around into the fire’s glowing light, showing no fear of the flames- or of me. He raised his head and sniffed toward the fire. Obviously the smell of the meat cooking had roused him from slumber. Then he turned his gaze on me.

“T’would be best if you returned to your sleep; else I will make it permanent for you.”

He shook his giant head back and forth, stepping from his left foot to his right as he did so, growling and showing teeth through quivering lips. He stepped toward the fire, dismissing me as a threat. His hunger was pulling him toward the now burnt chunk that I had intended to be my dinner.

I kept my back as close to the wall as I could and moved to stay in a good position should he suddenly change his mind. But that was exactly what I wanted him to do. I WANTED this fight, I NEEDED this fight. I needed affirmation of my life force, desperately craved that voice from deep within that is the will that supplies the strength you need to survive. By fighting something tangible, controllable, I was seeking proof that I could and would come to the other side of this ordeal.

“You cannot have my dinner, you over-sized rug! HAH!! GET AWAY!!!” I lunged a step and stomped my feet in his direction. He opened his mouth wide and growled, making the walls and floor vibrate with the sound and then started bouncing on his front paws.

“I sure can get myself into some of the worst situations.” Thoughts, more thoughts; for once I wished my brain would just hush; I didn’t need the distraction just then. I needed to focus. I positioned myself for his assault, knees slightly bent, both hands clasping the sword. I knew if I allowed the fight to last any length of time, my chances would be significantly lessened.

“The larger the opponent, the slower his moves will be, but also the more powerful his strikes. Focus all of your energy on your initial attacks, making sure they meet their mark. Keep the fight short using your agility to remain untouched.”

The bear swatted and I stepped back, putting my weight on my right foot and using the momentum to shift onto my left, forward foot and make a full arc with the katana, sinking the edge deep into the bear’s left shoulder. He ROARED and lunged, hitting me in the torso with his head, slamming me into the wall. I felt all of the air rush out of my lungs but somehow managed to keep my feet under me.

Once you have made contact- don’t just STAND there, admiring your work! MOVE!

But the beloved voice of my mentor was lost in the sound of a growl that wasn’t from the bear; an animal roar of challenge that echoed off the walls and back to its point of origin- me. Even as the growl escaped my mouth I felt suddenly stronger, larger. I could feel my nostrils expanding and everything in the cave changed- so that I seemed to be looking through thin, red cloth. I took the briefest moment to look at myself, afraid of what I was going to see.

So this is it…

But nothing had changed; my hands were still hands, clenching my katana. I raised my fingers to brush my cheek and was almost surprised that it felt no different than always.

The bear was moving his head from side to side, baring his teeth and making horrible sounds. I met his verbiage with an unfamiliar feral expression, my own lips pulling back to show my teeth in return. The feeling that coursed through me was intensified by the smell of blood pouring unhindered from the bear’s shoulder. He stood on his back legs and if I had had any sense I would have been petrified, but between the surge of the animal within and my instinct to survive, I instead saw an opportunity. He was enormous, his gnashing teeth and growling producing a thick foaming mass of drool. I moved around so the wall was no longer at my back, making room to maneuver. I had to think fast; his adrenaline was surging even as his life was draining through the gash in his shoulder and he was MAD at me.

“Yeah, I’m not too happy with you either, bear!!! But you will make a lovely blanket or robe. I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

Stay out of the way of those enormous paws. Figure out how to make one good thrust straight to his heart.

He dropped to all fours again and sniffed in my direction just as I felt warmth spreading down my leg, I glanced at the wall- a sharp protrusion had cut me, and there was blood on the stone and a trail that marked my movement to where I now stood. He turned his head to scent the life fluid I had deposited on the stones and there it was…my chance. In a movement that surprised me, I found that the strength I had felt was real, at least for now. With one giant step, I jumped to his back, spinning in the air. Before he could shake me free I drove my katana through his shoulder blades up to the hilt, turned it and pulled up half way and plunged again. The great bear crumpled to the floor with me still sitting on his back.

The moment of childish elation, like the feeling of winning a championship match, passed quickly. The aftermath of the adrenaline rush took over as I slid to the floor. I had been right on the brink of letting the lycanthropy take over. BUT IT DIDN’T. I had won yet another round against the beast, the one that was far more dangerous than the poor bear that sprawled beside me.

The bear had been hungry AND he was defending his home; which I had taken to keep from becoming a bloodthirsty beast far worse than he. As backwards as it sounded, I respected him for that. He was beautiful, with thick, dark reddish brown fur covering his muscular form, just beginning to lose the fat store that would have otherwise lasted him through his hibernation.

I felt the effects of blood loss from the gash in my leg, and found myself torn between just letting nature take its course and using one of the potions Athlain had so graciously left for me. Sometimes he just didn't think; what if he needed those?! I put pressure on my leg with one hand and reached for the sacks with the other, rummaging through the smaller one to find the potion I was looking for. It bore my own seal; he still had some of the potions from the meeting we'd had, at the airship. That must mean something; either he was as good a warrior as he wanted me to believe or he had been sitting safe somewhere. I knew the latter was not true and I smiled, thinking maybe if he'd learned a different weapon when we were growing up our childhoods might have been far different.

I tied a cloth around my face to lessen the scent of the blood, which was causing turmoil in my head, and began the process of separating the skin from the meat. I kept my thoughts focused on the task; a process that took a tremendous amount of time. The meat I prepared as best I could and carried deep into the cave where it would freeze and keep. The skin I stripped with my katana, thinking decidedly unkind thoughts toward Athlain as I did. If I had had my dagger, it would have been so much easier! I hung the skin on the wall to start drying, thinking as I did so that it would make a lovely set of fur armor, a complement to the white armor that was a gift from the Skaal. Beyond that, armor would be the best way to honor the bear who’s home I had taken.

Wooo update So Athynae isn't exactly offscreen for this quest and has rather a lot to worry about. I liked the appearance of the lycanthropy trying to take hold as she fought and making her stronger without actually changing her. It works that the effect is not so black and white but creeps in despite of her best efforts. I also like that it's not all bad, without that she might not have lived through that fight, though without it she perhaps would not have started on the bear. That she didn't consider this shows just how much she's having to focus to slow the disease, I wonder if she'll succeed...

It was a good fight sequence, and now she has the raw materials for some new armour.


Do I see some mixing of Skaal beliefs into her Redoran honour code. It seems that Athlain isn't the only one who is subtly changing...

Athynae's inner dialogue throughout even the fight with the bear and her attempts to distract her mind gave the reader that same sense of urgency to slow the progression of the disease. Her fear that it had taken over when she felt/heard the feral roar was tangible! Awesome Write !!

So she fights....like I kinda knew she would..amazing! This is writing in its excellence..


One of many sentences that made me smile, Athynae has not lost her sense of humor...that is good it will help her stay sane.

The story builds up more and more, gah how I love it!!

MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE ..please!

But the beloved voice of my mentor was lost in the sound of a growl that wasn’t from the bear; an animal roar of challenge that echoed off the walls and back to its point of origin- me.
The whole fight was gripping, both the physical one with the bear, and the internal one not to give in all the way to the disease.

I particularly liked the flower memories, and her respect for the bear. The many facets of Athynae.

Yes...isn't she just awesome? The wonderful daughter of Serene...I'm so happy about the interpretation of her

Love it mate... ...

Brilliant fight scene...

At least she'll be warm!... ...

Nice one... ...*Applauds*...

@Olen- You always manage to get at the heart of what we hope to accomplish. In this case, the mixed “blessing” of lycanthropy, as well as Athynae’s personal honor code- AND her evolving awareness of what all that weapons training really meant. Thank you so much.

@mALX- And you also find one of the key elements of the post- that Athynae cannot allow her attention to wander from the battle within for even a moment.

@minque- You have provided so much inspiration and guidance, with your wonderful creation of Serene, as well as your continued encouragement. The best thanks we can provide will be to grant your wish- and give you more story- FINALLY.

@Grits- Your words mean so much to us- you, who have given ALL of your characters such depth and dimension.

@McBadgere- Thank you so much! And yes- one set of bear armor on the way.

Where we are: Athynae remains ensconced in a cave, battling the effects of lycanthropy, as well as the urgings of the Daedra Prince Hircine. Athlain has found the Glenmoril Wyrd, who have sent him off to find the ONE remaining wolfsbane plant on all of Solstheim. As a result of a “finding” spell Korst invoked, Athlain is now able to “hear” Athynae, as well as know where she is. Now he needs some sort of similar magic- or something else- to find one plant on the highest peak on the island.

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Hvitkald Peak was known to me; I had traversed the perimeter of the mist-shrouded mountain when I activated the Water Stone. At the time, I had been grateful that I had no need to climb the rocky, ice-covered slope. And now, I was being sent to find one small plant somewhere amidst the fissures and drifts. If the quest had been for myself alone, I think I might have given in to despair then- but I could not. Athynae had not given up when she found me nearly dead from skooma addiction, nor later, when she again rescued me from the wreckage of the Dwemer airship. Her unyielding stubbornness had frequently annoyed me, but that aspect of her personality was precisely what I needed just then. And I needed one thing more. For the first time in my life, I called upon one of the gods to aid me.

Azura, you took a hand in my father’s life, though he did not desire it. And you chose Serene to be your vessel. If not for you, neither Athynae nor I would be here. And now, I seek your aid. Help me save the child of your avatar, the love of my life.

I left it at that; making no promises, striking no bargains. If Azura heard- if she decided to involve herself- she would let me know what price she expected in return. And I would pay it gladly.

Still, appealing to any deity- even Azura- was hard for me. Despite what I had told Korst, I knew quite a bit about the goddess who had played such a significant role in my father’s life. Even he admitted, although grudgingly, that she was the one who had saved him from becoming a corprus beast. Of course, he generally followed that admission with fulminations regarding his belief that he would not have become infected in the first place if not for her “interference.”

Family legend had been enough to cause me to read a bit more about the Daedric goddess, so I knew she was associated with dusk and dawn, the times of transition between darkness and light. If she intended to answer me directly, it would most likely be at one or the other of those. Given that my purpose was to make sure Athynae did not become a “creature of the night,” I decided to camp at the base of Hvitkald and wait for morning. That had the additional advantage of saving me from stumbling about the windy slope in the gathering darkness.

I set up my gear with the speed and economy of long practice, making a hollow in the snow and lining it with evergreen branches. I added a layer of furs and at last fashioned a roof from more branches, leaving an opening for the smoke from my tiny fire. Watching the colors of the dancing flames, I thought about sunrise- and Athyna. The two were inextricably linked in my memory. She had watched the dawn whenever possible, having a rather different “familial relationship” with Azura than I did. On more than one occasion, she had sent the staff at Indarys to drag me out of bed so we could watch the first light over the peaks near Ald’ruhn. And by way of thanks for my participation, she would then bruise and batter me on the practice ground, chattering enthusiastically the whole time. I had seen her less than a day before, and already I missed her terribly. That night was one of the longest I ever passed.

With time came leisure to consider Etienne and her sisters. There was something about them that bothered me- a sense of an image hovering just outside of my field of vision. Perhaps that was intentional- an attempt on their part to appear as mystical as possible. But Korst’s warning also nagged at me; as did the decidedly hungry look in the women’s eyes. At that, my own stomach reminded me of its needs and I gave over worrying at least long enough to prepare a meal. Given the number and aggressiveness of predators on Solstheim, I resisted the urge to cook anything; the fire was for warmth and for comfort against the darkness. Instead, I managed with smoked fish provided by the Skaal, along with some berries and ash yam. It was filling, though not necessarily satisfying.

As I drowsed beside the embers, I could sense ‘Thyna engaged in similar activities, could practically feel her anticipation of the meat she was roasting inside the cave. It was all very well for her- she was safely locked away… My resentment was shattered in an instant by a primal roar and the disappearance of her thoughts from my consciousness. I jumped to my feet, hands going for my mace and shield, even as I shouldered aside the roof of my shelter. Outside, nothing moved, beyond the slow wheeling of the stars. And then I knew- that terrible growl had come from within- not from without.

Something had happened. Something terrible. Athynae was in a struggle for her life. I had to…

What? What could I do? Run out into the darkness, across half the island, only to arrive exhausted- with no idea of what I might face? I did not want to believe it, but what if the roar I had heard was the triumphant call of the lycanthropy overwhelming her defenses? But no. Her thoughts just before had been relatively quiet, there had been no feeling of conflict. So whatever now threatened her had come upon her suddenly- and most likely was external. The Nine knew there were dangerous beasts in great numbers on Solstheim. And Korst had more or less indicated that Hircine was influencing them- driving them into a blood frenzy and suppressing their more usual wariness. But most telling, the harsh truth was that the source of the threat made no difference.

Suppose ‘Thyna was facing a wolf or a bear- or even something worse? And further suppose I did rush back to try and save her? (Assuming she even needed “saving”). Whatever was happening would be over for good or ill, long before I could get there. And when all was said and done, the greatest danger was the infection in her blood, the disease that would take her from me if I did not find the cure. My reasoning was sound, my conclusions were inescapable- and I hated myself for the cold equations that marched through my mind. I did not want to be logical- I wanted to hold her again.

Instead, I resettled the roof of my shelter into place and rescued the remaining embers of my fire from the snow that had nearly put them out. And then I sat down to wait, straining my mental “ears” for any sense of what was happening. Was this what it had been like for Athynae after I left for Solstheim, during all the long months since the party? Had she experienced the constant, gnawing fear- interrupted by moments of terror and then silence? No wonder she had come to find me- first in the cabin, then at the airship, and then the final, fateful time that had led to her being attacked. How had she been able to stand it when I blithely sent her off to Indarys, to be “safe,” practically with a pat on the head? In that moment, I felt as though I had earned every bruise she had ever given me.

There is no way to describe the time that followed my decision. I lived through those agonizing moments once, and have no desire to do so again. The profound silence that again inhabited that place in my mind that had become Athynae’s was almost more than I could bear. Even though I had only felt her “presence” for a day or so, its absence was akin to waking to find myself missing an arm or leg. A dozen times- a hundred- I reached for my pack and my weapons- and then forced myself to sit once more. And still, the silence reigned, broken only by the crackle of flames and the hiss of snow melt falling into the fire.

How STUPID does someone have to be to not check a cave for prior tenants before settling in?

The question came out of nowhere, and I found myself reflexively beginning the words of an apology before I realized it had not been directed at me. It was Athynae’s voice, but for once, she was berating herself. I allowed a smile of relief- and, I will admit- satisfaction- to curve my lips upward. She still lived, and by her acerbic tone, was as well as could be expected. Even so, I did not allow sleep to claim me. Before dawn, I would need to be high upon the slopes of Hvitkald where a different goddess awaited me- I hoped.

First: Great line! The struggle to follow the most helpful action instead of the most heartfelt was tangible!

Last: Lol on the last quote, lol.

Awesome Write !!

Woo update.

You did a good job of capturing his tension. His being unable to sleep then worrying and wanting to go back all show it well but the fact he tried praying was what really showed his worry and desperation about how dire his situation is. So far he's been to busy sorting her out then running around to look at the longer picture but he certainly took a look lying in the cold and dark at the mountain foot. At least he had the sense not to try at night...

Great stuff - as ever I look forward to the next part.

The thing that stands out the most for me in this update is Athlain's empathy for Athynae for what he put her through when he left. So much in his thoughts of her just shines.

Athlain's not entirely humble request for aid from Azura made me smile. I look forward to what the dawn brings.

Excellent chapter...Loved it...

I like the way he can "Hear" her thinking...Would save so much hassle if all men had that about their loved ones... ...

Nice one matey!!... ...

*Applauds*...

YESSS! he can hear Athynae, he CAN read her mind....That is excellent if I may say so! Now dear Athlain, you sweeet "son of your Father" Step in....help her! Drag her out of it, you're the only one who can....or? For all you might also seek guidance from your "Godmother"

MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE! (pretty please?)

@mALX- As ever, you find the lines that meant the most to me, as well. I think I lifted “cold equations” from somewhere, but it is such a perfect description that I cannot think of another. And yes, it says so much about The A and A Show that, even in this crisis, he is just a LITTLE happy that she is yelling at herself for a change.

@Olen- Yes, Athlain only admits the existence of Azura, but actually seeks her aid- he is beyond upset. And at the same time, he will try to do things “logically,” even when they involve faith.

@Grits- THANK YOU so much for highlighting that moment. It actually came late in the writing process- which is my only valid excuse for taking so long. The dawn will come- but not yet.

@McBadgere- My thanks. Hearing what one’s love is thinking… hmm. On further consideration, and with the memory of certain scorching looks that have been directed my way, perhaps not.

@minque- Athlain is still learning to use his newfound ability, and he is so used to acting “directly” that it is hard for him to imagine letting Athynae know that he can “hear” her. Then there is his healthy fear of her possible reaction. In some ways, those two traits define his relationship with her- well-established habits and trepidation. Of course, SOME of that is changing. As to his being the “only one,” well- read on to see.

Where we are- As Athlain awaits the rising of the sun (and grudgingly hopes for the aid of Azura) to find a single plant somewhere on a mountain, Athynae is continuing the most difficult fight of her life. Oddly enough, the struggle begins with a memory- and with laughter.

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“Ha ha ha ha!” The echo of my laughter drifted into the depths of the cave, fading little by little with each ricochet. It had crossed my otherwise piteous thoughts that even in this there was something to be thankful for. Mae and Cai weren’t trapped in here with me.

The scene replayed of the one and only time I had been forcibly confined with them. We had played a prank on Athlain, and like the majority of their grand schemes, it went terribly awry. In my defense I took no part in the planning; I was just the one with the skill and courage to climb the tree and tie the rope. We were almost finished setting the trap, the bait/trigger being Athlain’s dagger that I had taken in a skirmish the day before. I hadn’t finished securing the weight on the rope that would hold him suspended when Mae and Cai took off, shortly after which I heard an “Ooff” and the bundle of stones was snatched from my hands. I looked around the tree to see Athlain hanging upside down with the dagger in his hand. I had just a moment in which to be pleased that the snare had worked, then the sack of stones hit the ground behind me, having come loose from the unsecured knot. And of course, after being pulled even higher, Athlain plunged back to the ground.

He hit headfirst and screamed, and then blood started spurting from his left thigh. I knew we were dead anyway and I couldn’t leave him there bleeding like that, so I was by his side, doing what I could when Aunt Baria and Uncle Trey responded to his scream. While Uncle Trey took care of Athlain and extracted the dagger from his thigh I got to tell Aunt Baria ‘how this happened’. When I got to the Mae and Cai part Uncle Trey looked at me, his eyes the color of old ice, and bellowed like I’d never heard before.

“Mae and Cai! GET OVER HERE, NOW!”

It was then I realized that my fear of Uncle Trey was a healthy thing. Mae and Cai were there before I had blinked my eyes.

“Would you like to tell your father and I how this happened?” Aunt Baria’s voice was just loud enough to be heard over Athlain’s moans.

“It’s her fault,” they both said, pointing at me.

It took a second to process. "Hey! Now wait just a minute! This was NOT my idea….”

Mae cut me off, saying, “We were just thinking out loud and she decided to do it.”

Mae could lie like a guar in fresh hay. About that time Uncle Trey stood with Athlain in his arms.

“All three of you go to your room,” he indicated Mae and Cai with his head. “I am going to send for Serene just to make sure Athlain is healed properly. She can decide what to do with you,” glaring at me, “when she is done.”

I knew as well as Mae and Cai that arguing was useless. I followed them into the manor and up the stairs to their room. Before the door latched they lit into me like cliff racers on a blighted kagouti.

“Why did you go over there?”

“Why didn’t you run?”

“Why did you tell?”

“Stop!” I yelled, “You lied!” I pointed at Mae. “We were caught, game over! Then you lied and made it look like it was ALL MY FAULT!”

“Wasn’t it?” Cai chimed in. “If you hadn’t climbed the tree and set the trap the idea would have died as merely the musings of angry sisters.”

The argument didn’t let up for what seemed like hours. We yelled back and forth for who knows how long. It only ended when Mother opened the door, “Let’s go, young lady.”

I ran to her, feeling like I had just been released from one of those torture devices I had seen pictures of in the book in Father’s desk drawer.

“Mama, I am so sorry! It wasn’t supposed to do that! I didn’t mean to hurt him!”

“You never do.”

“Mama?”

“Yes?”

“I am really glad I am the oldest and the brats aren’t schemers like Mae and Cai.”

The memory faded as I recalled Mother’s smile; she always smiled like that when I called them the brats. I guess it’s because she knows I love them. If things here didn’t turn out well, she would still have my brother and sister, even if they were brats.

The thought that my life might end in such a way, in this place, unleashed a surge of anger fueled by pent up energy and frustration that lifted me off of the cave floor. I started swinging my katana, slashing at the roots hanging from the ceiling and protruding from the sides of the cave. I lost all control, screaming at the beast that had put me here, the course of events that had led me to fall prey to it, my own stupidity for doing exactly what I ALWAYS accused Athlain of, a raging hatred pointed at nothing but encompassing everything. I didn’t stop until I was so exhausted I couldn’t lift the sword much past my waist. I buried my face in the bear’s luxurious pelt, grasping hands full of fur, trying to find some comfort where none existed.

The voice was full of pride and exultation:

“I knew you were worthy of my gift! Even without the power the gift will supply, you are a fierce warrior.”

“I do not want your ‘gift’.” The words were barely a whisper, but his interruption stopped my descent into self-pity.

“You do not know what you are saying; you do not know what this gift will mean for you.”

The mental voice carried the implication that the disease that stalked my blood was some grand gem or immense sum of money.

“I do not want your ‘gift'.”

I did not alter my volume or tone; I spoke the words the same as I had the first time. I closed my eyes, pushing at his presence in my mind, thinking about Mother and some of the stories I had read in her journal. The strength and will power it must have taken for her to overcome some of what she had been through still stunned me.

Time was passing- fast or slow, I had no way of knowing. I was battling, in waves that seemed to be growing closer and closer together, the disease in my body and the voice of the Daedric monster in my head. The ebb of the tide carried calming memories, thoughts of home, lessons learned and, of course, the calming effect of Mother’s presence. She knew, wherever she was, that I was fighting like I had never fought before. There were not really words as there had been with Athlain, but I could feel her. I had not tried to talk to her because I was afraid her voice would only make me more bereft. Besides, we both knew she wouldn’t get to me in time even if she were to try, so she did the only thing she could, she stayed in my head. As for the disease, that fight was my own, and Athlain’s….

The antlered god started another barrage…

“You are only hurting yourself the more by fighting; come join me for the feast; all will be as it was intended. With you by my side we would be invincible, indestructible. The world would be ours for the taking, Athynae. You will be my greatest Hunter.”

“I do not want to rule the world with you or anyone else. I want my life as it should be. I will not give in to this. I will die first.”

His voice became a cajoling song:

“Oh sweet Athynae, do not say such things. You want to live, you want to answer the call of the wolf, you want to taste what your body craves. It is easy, so easy. Just open the door, my sweet. The life you desire is waiting.”

I was so tired of the fight, so tired of feeling the disease take my body into its grasp cell by cell. I was losing the battle as each moment passed. Where was Athlain? I couldn’t hold on much longer. He had taken my silver dagger and, as angry as I was, I knew why. I also knew my katana would serve the same purpose, not quite as expeditiously but to the same end.

“Athynae do not think like that, it is not so horrible as you think. Come join me and see for yourself. Should it be as unacceptable as you assume, I will let you go. But ‘tis no different than the prejudice amongst the races. I simply offer a different life than that you are accustomed to. And you would be as a god, with me, making the world what you want it to be.”

I started dry heaving; just the thought made me sick. It was vile, ugly, and I wanted it to stop. I didn’t want to hear the voice anymore; I didn’t want to feel the burning as the bad blood mixed with the good. I didn’t want, I didn’t want, I didn’t want….

I knew there were only two ways to make it stop that I could accept: a cure, which at this point did not seem likely; or making use of my katana. The blade was far too long for me to hold the hilt and plunge it into my heart and I knew that was the only way to be sure it was over because I couldn’t decapitate myself. I really should have paid more attention to weapons that could be thrown and then returned to the wielder. I was so tired even my sarcasm wasn’t hitting the mark.

I studied my katana, turning it in my hands and touching the blade, still almost sharp enough to split a hair even after the earlier assault on the walls and floor of the cave. I considered ways to anchor the blade so I could finish this.

I decided it was time and I NEEDED to hear her voice, even if it was going to be the last time.

“Mother, are you there? What would you do? I am so tired, and afraid. What did I do wrong, Mother?” I waited “Mother?” She wasn’t answering, had she given up?

I felt something inside snap. Time. I couldn’t fight this anymore, the fear of the lycanthropy taking over was more than I could bear; I had to finish this while I still had the wherewithal to do what was needful. I started collecting stones into a pile to use as a prop to position the sword. After my rampage through the cavern, it took a bit of time, as I had scattered them to the farthest reaches of the firelight. I crouched on my knees preparing to set the hilt of the katana into the stone wedge. My vision blurred a bit as I picked up a stone that had fallen off of the pile.

“Athynae Sarethi if you move ONE more stone! This is NOT over, and YES, I am still here. I will NEVER leave you. You must have faith in Athlain; you must hold on. I know the feeling of hopelessness, I know what it means to fight when all of your strength is gone AND IF I CAN SAY THAT IT MEANS I SURVIVED IT, which means that you can too. PUT THAT DAMNED THING DOWN NOW!”

The echo of the sword hitting the pile of stones reverberated through the cave, continuing its clamor until I collapsed and rolled into a fetal ball.

“Mother.”

My whispered cry was answered by the beast:

“Do not cry my sweet; the pain can end. Come to me, Athynae. Be my greatest warrior; rule the world with me.”

And Mother answered him, with a strength and fury I had only imagined she possessed:

“And what world would that be? The world of death and destruction? We have had our fill of desolation. This child was the END of that! YOU CANNOT HAVE HER! I will not let her go; I will not give up. Your cowardice is abhorrent. If you want MY blood, then come and get it! But you will not take my blood through her.”

The evil, the malice in the Daedra’s laughter, was murderous:

“You think you can do anything, Serene Sarethi? What strength do you possess when you are but a voice in the head of a naïve child? She is mine; it is only a matter of time before she succumbs.”

“I know my daughter; I know her heart, and she WILL NOT lose this battle! She will not join you! She will choose death before she tastes the first drop of blood! You have made a grievous error by choosing this CHILD! If she doesn’t hunt you down and destroy you when this is over I WILL! There will not be a place in this world nor in all the planes of Oblivion for you to hide.”

Her voice changed then and the Arch-Master of House Redoran disappeared, became “Mother” again, humming softly, a song she used when she was comforting me as a child. I could almost feel her hand caressing my head, letting my hair run through her fingers. Then the hair was brushed from my face….

To each of you THANK YOU so much for your continued support of Athynae. It is interesting how a character develops themselves…

@Olen- Ever so slowly it creeps, yes. Thank you for noticing the ‘subtle’ changes, our little girl is growing up.

@mALX- I am so glad you are here and that you like Athynae…it will get more interesting from here….stay tuned.

@Grits- I like the memories too, all of them. They creep in at the oddest times, REALLY!! Thank you for reading I do hope you like the following installment.

@McB- My new friend, thanks for reading…Thyna is very special to me, I only hope that I am doing her justice.

@Minque- And for your words I am most grateful, that Athynae meets your approval is at the apex of my goals for her. I do hope you enjoy the next piece in her tale (shut up Foxy). She sure would like to have the rest of your story…..was that subtle or what??? Much love Mother….. <3

It's like taking a step down into the depths of insanity as the battle rages in her mind, but Athynae is calling on all the right ghostly voices to help her fight the disease. Awesome Write !!

Ohh! Ohhh! Oh-oh-oh! That piece of her tail was so sweet, it still has a taste in my mouth....there's even some hair there....Oh, oh, oh, the taste...



...Er...


...Um...


...what?

Why are you looking at me like that! I meant that the tale was soo good, even the hair-raising lycanthrophy scenes left a taste in my mouth...

(anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking to it).



(And that's what happens when Foxy channels the spirits of Mai and Cai!)

Dhertee Innuendo and Joking aside, this is one of the most enjoyable, riveting, and beautifully - balanced - between - humour and horror pieces of writing I have had the pleasure of reading for a long time.

Hooray....and please, Sirs, may I have some more?

If my typing goes awry, I apologise...I sliced my finger open on summat earlier and my plaster is making typing...A challenge... ...

Absolutely amazing stuff...Sooo heartrending...

Most excellent...*Applauds*...Merely in the sense of haunting and terrifyingly scary type of way you understand... ...

Loving (in the sense...Blah blah...) the Hircine dialogue...Very Godly...Likes a good God do I... ..

Brilliantly done...

Nice one!!... ...

Very nicely written. I like the slightly feverish quality it has starting with a memory which faded into reality and the swing of emotion between them. It captured, without being blatant, that as well as suffering the assault of Hircine she is also ill with it.


The blood metaphors were particularly effective. The first has a lot to it too with the connotations of hunting. Very nice.

The memory set up Serene's voice well, which also gave even more of an ipression of a fever dream.

I second Badger - Brilliantly done.

Ok...Ok...Ok...after reading this part the third time, I still don't know what to say! Everything I come to think of sounds like clichees....hmmm I'll start with a big WOW...then what?

I wonder..who are the REAL mind readers here? Treydog? Athynae? Or both of you? Because that is what it must be, it must! How else could you know how I am thinking about Serene's child? How I wish her to be, to think to act!

The memory from her childhood....haha...right on spot! You even mentioned her siblings...WOW....

This part really got to me, I just sit here shaking my head....

And Athynae....you WILL get a new part of Serene's journal.....

Mmmmmmmm

Riveting is the word, the whole way through. I love the way Athynae's memory brought Serene’s calming presence. And then the lady herself spoke up for her daughter!! Wow is right!

Responses from Athynae:

@mALX- Thanks, even though she is a bit scatterbrained right now she is doing her best to keep it straight.

@Foxy- The dhertee innuendo had me in tears, I laughed so hard that day between this and Max my sides hurt the next day. THANK YOU for the compliment, that is high praise coming from one whose skill I admire greatly.

@McB- Thank you so much for reading. It is a bit dark and deep right now but hopefully soon she’ll be out of that cave, either traipsing around in the afterlife or hunting down Hircine….we shall see.

@Olen- I wait at the edge of my seat for your responses, not really for the compliments although I appreciated them TREMENDOUSLY, but to “see” it from your perspective. Thank you so much for reading and sharing, it means so, so much.

@Minque- Thank you. If you are seeing her through my eyes as you wished her to be then I have captured Athynae, your daughter and your conception, and I am elated that I have succeeded in bringing her to you. I WILL hold you to that PROMISE!!! Harassment will commence shortly if you dilly dally, I do still have the balding spell I threatened Trey with all those months ago….just saying.

@Grits- Serene is the ever-present stability that Athynae has to have; without her Athynae would spin totally off of her axis and there is no telling where she would end up. The others- Athlain, Athyn, Baria, and Trey all help with that as well, Mae and Cai are the midnight snack for her insanity, lol. Thanks for reading.

Everyone- I do hope you enjoy the next segment. We are finally coming to the apex of the current conflict. There is something about writing about these deep, dark emotional experiences that my insane mind seems to bask in, but I am looking forward to some lighter moments for her, we are both TIRED.

Author's Note:- A couple of Morrowind differences from Oblivion (or Skyrim). There is NO "quest compass" to point the player toward the goal of the current endeavor. Instead, you are given vague (and sometimes WRONG) directions. That said- there is also no "ground cover" to speak of, so finding a plant on a mountainside is not as difficult as it might seem. Certain other quests- notably for the Imperial Cult- can be frustrating in the extreme.

Where we are: Athynae is locked in a mental and emotional struggle against Hircine- and against her own fears. She was rescued from despair- and worse- by the voice of her mother, Serene. Now it is up to Athlain to climb his own (literal) mountain and to do the bidding of the mysterious Glenmoril Wyrd.

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Sleep was a luxury I could not afford. I knew my family history- and the reputation of the various Daedric deities- well enough to realize that Azura was punctilious. Missing the dawn would mean waiting until dusk- with connotations of “ending” that I did not care to contemplate- or waiting another day and night- time I could not squander. Beyond my fear of missing the dawn, a number of other concerns would have kept me from slumber. Though my sense of Athynae’s thoughts was only that- a sense, it was still enough to tell me that she was engaged in a fight for her very soul and substance. Worse still, she was afraid. That realization shook me. In all the time we had grown up together, I had witnessed ‘Thyna exhibiting the full range of moods and emotions, except for fear. She may have felt it, but she never showed it. I might have panicked then, building the kindling of my own doubt into a raging bonfire, giving myself up to the terror of what might happen. But I did not.

Once more, the gruff words of Senior Trooper Carbo came back to me and steadied me, just as veterans had settled novice Legion officers on a thousand fields:

Whether you are leading ten thousand or standing alone, you have the duty. Mainly, that means keeping your eye on what you need to be doing right now. Don’t pace, don’t fidget. The troops will look to you to decide whether they should be scared or confident. If you just stand still, and look calm, that is usually enough. You are an officer of the Legion and I know you will do your duty.

I had to smile as I remembered his final words on the subject, delivered with a glare:

Because if you don’t I will surely kick your scrawny ar$e all the way to Akavir… SIR!

Therefore, I remained still and pretended a calm that I did not feel, gauging the passage of time by the wood I added to my fire. The stars slid by overhead, and I rose every so often to check their positions, as well as those of the waxing moons. At last, I gathered the potions I thought I would need and put out the fire. In the light of the dying embers, I traced ‘Thyna’s script on each label, wishing it was the curve of her cheek.

Using levitation in the darkness and over unfamiliar ground was dangerous, but I was willing to take that risk to buy time and distance. Besides, the only cliff racer I had encountered on Solstheim was a trophy, hanging from the rafters of the Great Hall in the Skaal village. And for once, the ever-present snow was a help rather than a hindrance. The contrast between dark sky and white ground told me when I had reached the summit of Hvitkald. Floating within a foot or so of the ground, I turned my face to the east and waited.

That high on the slope, the wind never completely stopped, and I was just as glad when the potion’s effect dissipated and let me drop to the ground. An almost imagined lightness appeared in the eastern sky, followed by a rose-colored glow. The edge of Magnus emerged, and threw a long shadow behind me. I turned to see the snow being lit with hues of red and orange- and still I waited. There was a sound like a chime from somewhere, everywhere, nowhere- and a beam of light flashed into a sheltered alcove. Within was a plant such I had never before seen, one that stood higher than my knees, adorned with a single purple bloom. The leaves of the plant itself were dark green and ragged, not surprising given the fierce conditions in which it grew. The light shone on the plant and the sound of the chime rose in volume until I fell to my knees before the last wolfsbane on Solstheim.

With numb lips I whispered, “I thank you for this blessing, my Lady of the Dusk and Dawn.”

Before I moved to harvest the plant, I considered carefully what Fallaise had said- she needed only the petals. I would have been reluctant to uproot and destroy an unknown plant in any event; Mother’s gardening and Father’s alchemy had ingrained conservation in me. Examination showed that there were nine petals; I wondered how many the Glenmoril sister required. A voice seemed to urge me to caution, and so I decided on a fair division- using ‘Thyna’s silver dagger, I took three for Fallaise, left three upon the plant- and the last three I put away in my apothecary bag. The wind dropped away and I thought I heard a sigh that was as large as the sky itself. Something within me- shifted, and I heard a woman’s voice, speaking a single word:

DONE

So clear was the voice that I lurched to my feet and looked around. But there was no one else on that mountainside- at least no one who chose to show herself.

The return to the Altar of Thrond started easily enough; I imbibed a second potion of levitation and willed myself back toward the east and the rising sun. The increased height showed me a large number of wolves, bears, and Rieklings in the vicinity, and I vowed that I would be careful to avoid them as much as I could. And so I did, but was nevertheless battered, bloodied, and weary by the time I attained the shelter of the standing stones. Some force or power had to have driven the creatures of the island, for their attacks were more ferocious than ever. The hunting calls of the wolves were answered from near and far, by other wolves but by the growling of bears and the grunting of Riekling steeds. I only battled those I could not avoid, pushing always back to the east and south, where the Glenmoril sister awaited me.

Once I was at the Altar, the raven form appeared and transformed once more into the old woman who called herself Etienne. She said nothing of my appearance or my injuries, asking only:

“And do you have the ingredient my Sister requires?

When I nodded my head yes, her eyes seemed to sharpen and glint before she stilled herself and transported us both back to the cave. The cauldron was bubbling slowly, and the two remaining women circled it slowly, tending the fire and from time to time, adding things to the awful mixture within. Fallaise took the petals I offered without a word, closed her hands over them, and raised them to her mouth. She spoke into the opening between her thumbs, all the while casting sidelong glances my way. What words or even language she spoke I never knew- only that the shadows around the cave seemed to leap and caper in time with the rhythm of her chanting and her black cloak seemed for a moment to be shot with red. At last, she straightened and threw the petals into the cauldron, stirring the brew for several moments and then raising a ladle to examine the color and consistency. She spoke to me then, saying:

“The wolfsbane will infuse our brew with the essence of the wolf. I am impressed that you were able to find it.”

Then, with a grunt of satisfaction, she went back to tending the fire.

Meanwhile, Etienne approached me with the third Sister by her side.

“Now young soldier, my sister Isobel has a task for you. Listen well- the Rite of the Wolf Giver depends upon your doing everything just the way we ask.”

The Sister whose black clothing seemed to shade towards green looked at me for a long moment and then rasped,

“The Rite requires ripened berries of the belladonna. Unripe berries will not do. They grow on the western sides of the Nord burials upon this island. Spriggans have also been known to carry them. I care nothing for how you obtain them- but go and find the berries.”

Dismissed, I left the cave, not having any desire to linger.

These “errands” for the Glenmoril Wyrd were starting to feel like a “green guar hunt,” a prank played on youngsters or newcomers to Vvardenfell. Go and find some belladonna berries- but not just any berries- only the ripe ones. And, just by the way, the best place to find them is on a mound full of not-sufficiently dead Nords, who already have a poor attitude toward the living to begin with.

What would be next- a tail feather from a cliff racer, harvested while the pestiferous creature was still in flight? The buoyant gas of a bull netch, captured in a bottle made of hand-blown volcanic glass, created by a one-eyed glass-blower? But I did not have time to be impatient- I must do as I was told and as quickly as possible. I may have been fresh out of hope, but fear was a strong motivator. As for the berries Isobel wanted, I could go careening across all of Solstheim, stirring up draugr or spriggans- fighting wolves and bears and Nords (live or undead). Or I could just reach into my pack and produce the ones I had already harvested. She had said she “did not care” how I obtained them.

On the other hand, it would probably be wise to act as if it took some time. So I found a convenient tree out of sight of the cave and also out of the wind and settled in to get some needed rest. If I dreamed, I do not remember, but I did awake refreshed. As I had done with the wolfsbane, I held back a portion of the belladonna berries before I presented myself to Isobel. She was more talkative than her sister, giving me a smile that never reached her eyes as she took the berries from me, brushing my hand with her icy fingers.

“You have brought me the berries. Well done.”

She rolled them around in her hand and then… placed them briefly in her mouth before tossing them into the cauldron one by one. The close air of the cave took on a smell of raw earth- and of something else. Isobel spoke again, giving a name to what I had sensed:

“The belladonna berries will sweeten the brew with the taste of death. Speak now to my sister Etienne to learn what you must do next.”

I approached the first sister, the raven-hued one, and she watched me with unblinking eyes.

“So, you have completed the tasks my sisters set you and quickly at that. It is well that you did. We will continue to prepare our brew- our potion- but it is not for drinking! Oh no, young soldier- not at all. It is for something… else. Go now and leave us to our work. Meet me at the Altar of Thrond at midnight, under the light of the moons. I will then tell you what you must do next. Stay away from the cave and from the Altar until then. Certain… preparations have already been made and your premature arrival would disrupt them. The cure is nearly within your grasp, but the final and most difficult steps lie ahead of you.”

That was good, but you know that already. Both the flow of the piece and the actual lines were spot on though. Particularly with the flow I enjoyed the turbulent emotion you put into it. Hope to begin with then gratitude as Azura possibly intervened (which in itself worked - was it luck, was it her, or something else which led him to the right point of the mountain) then though fear to the tired gloom of the wyrd. The spark of Athlain's dry humour really set the piece off. It reflects his emotions and worked to give this section weight and feeling. The humour might not have worked were it not so well imprinted that it is Athlain's way of coping when things start to get beyond him.

Now onto the individual lines, I'll limit myself to three quotes from the massive pastebin I picked out on the second read through.


This was evocative, and captured his fear and loss. Really powerful line.


I quote this because the word awful is so perfect there. It's just a simple description but all the connotations worked and it really tied into the atmosphere and made the scene live.


Old earth newly turned perhaps? Well not exactly but it put me in mind of Stoker.

This is up there with my favourite parts I think.

Athlain tracing Athynae’s script on the label went straight to the heart. He’s still fighting to avoid losing her, but I can easily see him holding on to some little thing just because it once was hers.

Levitation sounds awesome. I can see why people were angered by the Levitation Act.

Athlain’s discovery of the wolfsbane plant and his careful division of the petals had me holding my breath. Not because I thought something might pounce on him, but the whole scene was just that delicate and beautiful.

How funny that Athlain took us on a mental tirade before admitting that he already had the berries. Hope may be replaced by fear, but Athlain is still Athlain.

I love this episode from start to finish.

Now that was descriptive and an evocative display of creepy!

Well done sir! Well done.

I've reread the last posts up too this last one, and it sounds like Athynae has her mothers stub-- willpower. Yes, that the ticket...

So excellent!!...

Nice one... ...

Whenever any of the writers add a quote from an earlier time, it always makes me smile...So I absolutely love this bit...



Most excellent...

Loved the almost sarcastic tone of his thoughts towards the Glenmoril quest givers...Made me laugh that did... ...

Another splendid chapter...So excellent...

*Applauds heartily*...

Hehe..firs a quote from one of the previous comments....
is it so huh?

Then I'm so thankful Athlain is struggling so hard to rescue Thyna...But of course he would do that, he's a man of honor, of love, of compassion....and yet a warrior!

Treydoggie my friend, my mentor, my inspiration....this story here is just so intriguing, I love every word of it! And the cooperation with Athynae....why it's awesome!

May I have some more, Sir?

GAAAAH !!! Those Glenmoril witches are a lot creepier in Morrowind than the one in Oblivion was! This gave me chills !! Awesome Write !!

@Olen- My thanks. I have come to trust your “ear” for whether the mood I am trying to develop is working or not. I dithered a bit about the humor, but then left it in- because, as you say, that IS how Athlain copes. The first line you quote was one of those that came very near the end of the revising process. On the third- your name for what Athlain cannot- or will not- say is exactly right.

@Grits- Gulp. Again, I look to your wonderful moments with Jerric and Abiene as a guide for how to do this “relationship thing” correctly. And you have caught Athlain- he DOES in fact save the empty vials, because SHE touched them. There are some really fun ways to REALLY abuse levitation in Morrowind- the Shrine to Stop the Moon comes to mind. The decision to hold back some of the plant- AND the one to Athynae’s (stolen- and she WILL have MUCH to say about that) silver dagger- were also rather late additions. I am thrilled that it worked so well. In his grumbling and griping, he is more like his father than he knows.

@Black Hand- Thank you so much. And yes- I DO believe “willpower” is the word we want here. We DEFINITELY do NOT wish to make comparisons to “a deaf guar stuck in a mudhole.” And so- we won’t. Nope. Nope. Uh-uh.

@McBadgere- You humble me, sir. Most particularly because I have been so remiss in telling you what a delight YOUR story continues to be. Much as he does with humor (something he AGAIN got from his father- without fully realizing it), Athlain uses memories of Carbo to center himself. And, though he does not know from whence it comes, he definitely has a feeling of being “played” by the Glenmoril Sisters. The truth of that is about to be revealed.

@minque- I did not say ANYTHING about Serene and “stubb…” the word I did not say. Thank you so for your praise of Athlain and of his writer. Much of how I envision him comes from the work of others- including yourself. And I won’t take this opportunity to prod you to give us MORE of that work. Nope.

And more is on its way!

@mALX- Thank you so much! Considering the depth you have to TES vampire lore, your praise means more than I can say.

Where we are. Athlain has (at last) gathered the components needed for the Rite of the Wolf Giver. Thus, in true sadistic writer fashion, we will leave him for a time and return to Athynae.

-------------------------------------------------------

I curled into the memory of Mother’s hands brushing my hair away.

“Thyna?” The voice for which I had been waiting what seemed like a thousand lives, Athlain’s voice, calling to me.

I didn’t answer, I couldn’t find my own voice, I couldn’t even open my eyes. I was afraid it was a dream and if I moved… so I drifted back into the fitful sleep.

The cave, hour by hour, minute by minute, closed in on itself and me. I had finally gotten to the point that the ugly, antlered wolf head and its insidious voice could not easily pierce my mental barrier. I would tell Mother how Uncle Seth could block her now that I knew, as soon as I saw her that is. It just didn’t seem right- telling her how to block telepathy through telepathic channels. I had also been blocking from her and Athlain the worst of the pain and conflict, what she accessed of the beast’s intrusions I could not control, but thankfully she was fighting alongside me on that mental battlefield, it was the strength of her presence that had gotten me this far. And the knowledge that Athlain would move Hvitkald Peak to find a cure.

The waiting, knowing that at some point I would not be able to fight it any longer, was almost as deadly as the disease itself, for me anyway. Death, dark thoughts those, the ones that come when contemplating what comes after life ends. Are the colors vivid, or is all just shades and shadow? Do you feel, or do you just cease to exist? Is there comprehension of time passing or are you just …?

“THYNA? ATHYNAE SARETHI! ANSWER ME!” he sounded like a Legion Drill Sergeant, and I couldn’t help the smile that brought to my face, but I still couldn’t answer. I was trembling like I had just stepped out of a stream onto frozen ground. I was barely breathing. Elation and fear, loneliness and the most intense need to see his beautiful face, all culminated even as I could sense his fear, hear him thinking:

“PLEASE AZURA! SHE HAS TO LIVE. I would know if something happened; I WOULD!! Could she block me if she planned something stupid?”

There he went again…. But it didn’t register as something to get angry about at that point. He was scared and so was I, but my fear was so profound I couldn’t say anything. I felt his hands on my shoulders as he gently shook me.

He’s touching me, HE’S TOUCHING ME! There aren’t words to describe how I felt in that moment; finally I wasn’t alone anymore and then that thought was crowded out by another, more urgent still:

“THAT CANNOT HAPPEN. He can’t touch me; it’s dangerous. “

“STOP!!” The depth of the voice I found was startling to Athlain and to me.

He dropped his hands even as I lifted mine to my face, covering my eyes and rubbing them. I tried to calm the quaking that had overtaken me. I lowered my hands and opened my eyes.

“Well that took long enough. Have you enjoyed your outing?” Why did I always do that? Why couldn’t I just act like I felt, thankful that he was back, appreciative that he loved me enough to TRY to find help, whether he did or not? Maybe someday I would not be like this, but for now he would just have to deal with me the way I was. After all, if I didn’t love him I wouldn’t be so hateful. It made sense to me.

“It’s lovely to see you, too.” His response was no different than mine, thick with emotion but on the wrong side of nice. “I have something for you, but you must know the road I traveled to bring me back to you.”

“What is it Athlain? Do you not think that the priority is to tell me whether I shall live or die?” There it was, cut to the chase. And isn’t that an appropriate use of words, “chase.” And even as that thought passed I could picture a Werehound chasing its two-legged prey.

“I have a potion, but first you must know the whole of what it cost me, all that I have been through to obtain it.”

“You are blathering like an old woman, Athlain. You got it- wonderful- good- excellent- full marks. Now, just give me the potion and leave. You can tell me all about it AFTER. Do you not think I have already suffered this abomination long enough?” Even I could hear the coldness in my own words, making it sound as if I didn’t care what he had gone through- FOR ME! Had I always been this way?

“You need to know now and you also need to know, ‘Thyna, that I will not leave you again.” There it was, that commander voice he had picked up somewhere between Ald’ruhn and here. Like that was going to change my mind. I knew what the healing process was, and I also knew that he could not stay as I suffered the throes of the major healing my body would require- the changes it would bring.

“Oh yes, you WILL leave me, else I will not take the potion.” It came out barely a whisper but with crisp enunciation, that tone that said, “This is not open for discussion.” That should do it; he wouldn’t argue with that. “Tell me what you need to tell me then and get on with it; too much time has passed as it is.”

“I was sent to the Glenmoril Sisters by Korst. They are worshippers of Hircine. He warned me of their dark ways , but I don’t think even he could have imagined what actually happened. They sent me across the island, gathering ingredients for a repulsive concoction, as part of something they called the ‘Rite of the Wolf Giver’.”

He stopped and breathed deeply for a moment, his eyes haunted with the memory.

“The Sisters I met were not servants of Hircine, but rather part of a plot by Boethiah to thwart Hircine. They murdered the true Glenmoril Wyrd and used illusion magic to take their places.”

I frowned at him as I tried to follow the twisting path of this story. “Boethiah? What does he have to do with…? Never mind. So what are you trying to tell me, Athlain? That it was all a lie- that there IS no cure? Just tell me, so I can decide what I need to do.” Why was he insisting on telling me this story? Why did he seem to want to delay? He had already told me he had the potion- so why draw things out?

He did not flare up in response to my biting tone the way he should have- what was WRONG with him? Instead, he just went on in that wooden voice, as though he was reciting a particularly dull lesson:

“I am sorry this is complicated, but you need to know all of it. I gathered the ingredients and then they sent me away, telling me to come back to the Altar of Thrond at midnight. That was… a few hours ago. When I reached the place, they had captured a Nord girl and laid her on the Altar.”

He stopped again and tears welled from his eyes. “ ‘Thyna… they wanted me to... sacrifice her. They wanted me to cut out her heart and replace it with the horrible THING they had made- the ‘wolf heart’ they called it. And then, I was to bring her heart to you- so you could… so you could…“ his voice fell to a whisper, “eat it and replace your own, damaged heart. Thus they would thwart Hircine and corrupt me.”

I knew to the depths of my soul and his that he would rip the hearts from a thousand monsters to save me, but taking the life of one innocent person, especially an innocent young girl- was far too high a price to pay. And that was as it should be; that was the Athlain I loved. I was still seized by the idea that two gods were fighting over me when it should be no secret that I was Azura’s child; after all, how could I be otherwise? Were it not for her I wouldn’t be here, because my mother wouldn’t. Athlain was still talking, still in that dull, weary tone:

“They told me Boethiah is VERY angry, as he considers you HIS.”

“HE WHAT? WHO? WHAT?” I was stunned for a moment, who was this Daedric NOBODY and how did he come to believe he could “own” me? Sweet Azura, how could this be happening? “Maybe I need to ask Azura to go have a chat with him.” She should have hit me with a bolt of lightning for the tone I used.

“Boethiah saw Hircine reaching out his hand to take you, to make you a ‘hound’.” His tone was that of a storyteller, like he was detaching himself from any emotion.

“To make me a hound? I can see you taking me home to Mother now. ‘Here Aunt Serene, this is your new housedog. Really, it is just Athynae but quieter and less trouble. She’ll just lie by the fire and occasionally scratch and lick places she shouldn’t’.”

Athlain shot me a look that I had never seen before; if he had used that expression in the arena back home he might have won more matches. “So he sent his servants to murder the true Glenmoril Wyrd…”

“Two old Daedric princes that no one even remembers vying to ‘have’ me.” What in the Nine was going on here? I had fallen into some sort of scary story that had gotten far out of hand.

“And it was not enough to just stop Hircine; they are sick and twisted and they wanted to force me into an impossible choice, an innocent girl, or you.” He dropped his head for the briefest moment and I could feel the pain in his thoughts, in his heart.

“What is it, Athlain? What happened?” The pain shook me, his pain, brought on by my dilemma; I suddenly felt very responsible for all of this. All I wanted to do was grab his hand and say, “Let’s go home.”

“The prophecy of Oddfrid came back to me and reminded me to be true to myself, and I saw another answer, one that Etienne was trying to hide. I discovered the truth when I refused to kill the girl Thyna,” a single tear slipped down his cheek as the words escaped his lips. “But I had to kill Etienne; rather the one I thought was Etienne, to prevent her from making the sacrifice anyway. When I released the girl she told the rest of the tale and I found the real Sisters in a cave not far from the Altar, killed by the imposters. And on one of the bodies was a scroll with the ingredients I needed to make the true cure.” He reached inside the satchel I had given him and drew out a vial, “This potion.”

“Athlain, I know you would not have taken the life of someone innocent, even if it was the only way you could save me. And that’s RIGHT! And you got the potion and saved the girl too; YOU SAVED HER, ATHLAIN! You made the right choice; Azura’s peace upon you; you made the right choice.” I could feel the hot tears coursing down my own cheeks, tears for the girl, for all that he had been through to get back to me, for the potion that he now carried that was my only hope of survival, and for myself and the naïveté that had been my life before this nightmare began.

“But there’s one more thing…”

“Yes?”

“For the potion to work, I have to be here with you.” His voice was gentle, as he reached to touch my hand.

I recoiled, stood and crossed to the fire. It was hard enough to have him so close, the secondary thoughts, the ones beneath the conversation, were all concentrated on the vein that throbbed on the side of Athlain’s neck, drawing me like a slaughterfish to an easy kill, the scent enticing me like Cook’s sweet rolls early in the morning, all sweet and gooey and…. I knew he could hear those thoughts, I could feel his presence in my mind, but he obviously did not understand the strength of will it was taking me to fight and keep it at bay.

“I have never heard of a potion that had that as an ingredient! How ridiculous, mix this and that and heat to boiling, then drink in the presence of another. Athlain, I know what this potion will do to me as it heals me.”

He moved to take a step in my direction and I stopped him with a look and a shake of my head, “It has to travel through the bloodstream, to each vital organ, and as it does so, it will be a battlefield inside, as the diseased blood and organs are cleansed. It will be horrendous, but even more than that it will be dangerous. Dangerous for me certainly, and for you if I allow you to stay. And the possibility exists that as the potion works, I could change into one of those hideous creatures and NEVER change back. If too much time has passed, well, some things can’t be undone.”

“Athynae I want you to think!”

“What do you presume I have been doing during the lifetimes that I have spent in this private hell? I cannot take the chance that I will kill you in the process of POSSIBLY healing myself.” The words came out as a bellow, and I made an effort to calm myself. Being angry and fighting lycanthropy were not good company inside.

“I want you to remember when you healed me at the cabin. Do you remember?”

“OF COURSE I REMEMBER, IT WAS THE MOST FRIGHTENED I HAVE EVER BEEN IN MY LIFE! HOW COULD I NOT REMEMBER?”

“Do your hands always glow blue during a healing?” His eyes were piercing and his voice carried a hint of accusation.

That thought caused me pause. Why was he asking that? How did he know that? Why did he want to know? But I could not be dishonest; somehow I had the feeling he would know if I lied. So, as badly as I wanted to say “YES THEY ALWAYS DO,” I couldn’t…

“DO THEY? TELL ME! DO YOUR HANDS GLOW BLUE DURING A HEALING? DO YOUR MOTHER’S HANDS GLOW BLUE EVERY TIME?”

That was another shock- the only time I had seen Mother’s hands glow during a healing was when it was truly life or death and she had requested intervention from Azura.

“No, they don’t. But what does that have to do with this?” I knew how Athlain felt about all of the gods, so I couldn’t even guess what he was getting at.

“I am immune to the disease that courses through you 'Thyna, BECAUSE OF YOUR HEALING!”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t kill you, FOOL!” Immune? How? No- there was no time. I could feel myself drowning in this fight. I WANTED him to stay, I did, but I could not let him, I couldn’t risk his life anymore than I already had, why did he not understand?

“I would have died in that cabin if it weren’t for you and the healing that channeled through you; you are a great healer, 'Thyna, just as your Mother is.”

I laughed, a mad laugh, probably the stress of the situation but also the immense exaggeration of comparing me to my Mother. Serene Sarethi was the greatest healer on all of Vvardenfell, probably in the entire Empire, and I was NOTHING close to that.

“But even you could not have brought me back from the brink without help.” His eyes were fixed on me, huge pools of unshed tears that he was holding by a thread with an intensity that was as sharp as my dagger.

Suddenly I found myself immersed in the memory of that healing. I hadn’t realized how close he was to death until I had laid my hands on his emaciated body, his heart barely beating, struggling through every thrust of blood, his liver fighting the contamination of the drug and his kidneys far beyond being able to flush the poison. I had pleaded,

“PLEASE AZURA, FIX THIS, I cannot live without him.”

And she had; the power channeled through my hands glowing that same crystal blue I’d seen before.
Athlain’s determined voice broke my reverie, “The potion is a pathway, just as your hands were a pathway. But for it to work, the power has to be enhanced from elsewhere, and the strength has to come from beyond ourselves.”

“I cannot risk it, Athlain. You may stay if you insist; I cannot wait any longer, but the truth is it may already be too late; this may be a useless attempt and I do not want you to be my first kill. You must stay far out of reach; you must have your weapon ready, and you must GIVE ME BACK MY DAMN DAGGER!”

“I have to be the channel, Athynae, for this to work I have to touch you, hold you.” His voice had lost a little of the commander edge and just a touch of pleading took its place.

“WHY ARE YOU SO STUBBORN? Why don’t you understand what could happen?” This was just becoming one nightmare rolling into another and another- when was it going to end?

“BECAUSE AZURA TOLD ME TO DO THIS!” Now that did not sound like Athlain AT ALL. Had he been corrupted by the false Wyrd after all?

“If it is Azura’s will that I live then I will, whether you are touching me and attempting suicide or not!” I wish I had a dunce hat to put on your head.

“Her words are burned into my brain. When I entered the cave she told me:”

Wait until the dawn, Child of Nerevar. That is when my power is greatest.The night and the moons belong to The Hunter. Dusk and Dawn- belong to me. As do you.

“When you entered what cave? You expect me to believe Azura said anything to you?” I was becoming concerned; really, he had ALWAYS just sort of tolerated my faith in Azura, it was like a grudging respect, like he knew it was probably a good idea but he didn’t like it.

“THIS cave Thyna; please do not pretend ignorance- it does not suit you.”

Athlain had left the entrance to the cave open and I could see the edges of the horizon just beginning to lighten. “You are just USING Azura’s name to convince me to let you stay. It isn’t going to work. You have never given Azura so much as a by your leave and you expect me to believe she talked to you.”

“I called to her to help me find the plant, the wolfsbane, the ONLY one on the island…”

“STOP! Just stop, please. It is not going to work, it just isn’t!” I felt as if he was trying to twist my faith in Azura just to meet his own desire, to stay with me and it angered me, not just that he was doing it but that somewhere inside I felt like he was telling the truth. How was I supposed to go against EVERYTHING I KNEW of him and believe something so illogical? His eyes followed mine to the entrance and he said quietly,

“It is almost dawn; it is almost time.”

Defeated by it all, I hated every last breath I had taken since I stepped off the porch of that cottage. Everything since then had been an internal conflict that ripped and tore at my mind and my soul just like the lycanthropy had raged through my body. “I see the sky.” It was steeped in emotion, simple words that meant EVERYTHING.

“When it is time, I will give you the potion. And I will stand here.”

“No.” There was no command in my voice, there was none left.

“I cannot leave.”

I took a deep breath, fighting anger and fear, fear that I had reached the end, fear that I would be the end of him, pain emotional and physical, and the worst of all was the black cloud of sadness and regret that covered everything. “The least you can do is stand by the entrance to the cave and keep me from leaving should anything go wrong.”

Athlain’s face paled. “ 'Thyna, I…”

“I never thought when I had Bryn make that weapon for you that it could be my end, The Gift,” I smiled. ”There is something peaceful in that.” Musings of a maddened mind I suppose.

Athlain was holding his breath it seemed as he handed me the potion. “I will do what I must.” In that sentence I heard the totality of what it meant.

“Yes you will, because it will be me or you. You have fought for your life many times before and survived. I have no reason to doubt your ability this time. You MUST survive,” I tried to swallow past the enormous lump in my throat, “you are the only one that can take me home.”

He walked to the entrance of the cave, pulling The Gift from its loop. Our eyes met across a short distance that seemed greater than that between the stars. We were far beyond words, both putting all of our faith, love, hope and dreams in the few drops of liquid in the tiny vial.

“It will be as you say.” I couldn’t tell if he had spoken the words out loud or if it was a thought.
“Azura, keep him safe.” I looked past him into the glowing colors of the dawn as I removed the cork and drank the potion. “I love you.”

Oh my... ...Oh my freaking God that was intense...

That's just amazing...Totally amazing...

No...Even more amazing than that...

I'm speechless...Well...Typeless... ...

Fair dues, that's just brilliance right there that is...

Couple of things that made me laugh...



Well yeah... ...

And...



*Laughs...Nods...Slaps self accross face...*...Naughty Robert... ...

Intense and brilliant and funny and heartbreaking...

Nice one!!... ...

*Applauds heartily*....

Holy Cow! This has to be the most powerful write yet! I can't even begin to quote, ARGH !!


These two quotes were powerful insights into Athynae :








This has been quoted already, but merited a second one :




I absolutely love this line because it mixes the greatest compliment with a side barb so easily that either could be missed :




Awesome Write !!!

*

A very moving and powerful segment. Hearing the events from Athlain as Athynae did rather than seeing them unfold really brought her doubts home.

What a horrifying choice for Athlain to have to make. The only hope for them both was the unknown third option. The pain he went through was clear through Athynae’s eyes.

It says a lot that Athynae asked Azura to keep him safe before she took the potion. Wow, an intensely emotional episode! And with a sweet touch of hope at the end.

A picture is worth a thousand words, so I'll let Sebastian from the Little Mermaid display my reaction:

Jawdrop.

Utterly fantastic with this last one....


S:"Dammit Girl! Don't tell her how I do that!"

Soooo you guys made me speechless....AGAIN! What an amazing installment.... I don't know what to say, whatever I try to type down here isn't enough to express how i felt about this....Blackie's Sebastian says it all


"Now my dear girl, you don't think I have some aces up my sleeve huh? It may come as a surprise but I'll tell you this...I know things too, but I choose not to reveal everything I know!"

Anyway there is still hope that things may come out OK for them, and I sincerely hope so because I would just hate to loose Thyna...
You wouldn't, right? Hmmmm

Very powerful part. The opening had a strange timeless dreamlike quality to it. I wasn't quite sure what was happening which caught Athynae in the grip of the fever well. The inevitable argument was present, of course, but with a greatly changed dynamic. Athlain was sure and powerful. The days of him being tounge-tied or just in the wrong (regardless of reality) seem to be over. Whether he'll go back to passively listening and letting Athynae have her say remains to be seen. I suspect this will fundementally change their relationship though.

In the argument the reversal of roles was also notable for Athynae having made the mistake and Athlain coming to the rescue with Athynae being a less than willing patient. Her objection to putting Athlain in danger neatly mirrors his sending her to Vvardenfel. I suspect that seeing eachothers perspective may be a major factor in bringing about the change - indeed Athynae seems to have noticed this already.

This was definatly a very powerful part, others have already made their praise and I echo it, however I am going to raise two criticisms/ thoughts (both are largely matters of taste).
Firstly I would suggest that there was possibly slightly too heavy a use of all-caps in that section. I found it crossed the line from emphasising to being a little distracting. My taste very much does run towards use of description over typeface though so it might just be me.
The second is entirely selfish - I would have liked to see Athlain realise the Wyrd were fake and have to face the decisions from his PoV, it would have been amazing to read. However I accept that it might have taken some impact from this section and would have slowed the pace rather. A matter of balance really (and when was I ever balanced).

Finally a quote

Brilliant finish to this piece. Tied in so heavily to what went before, but also looking to the future. I believe that's the first time she's said it with him present.